Calling In Sick
by Creecree
Summary: When Harry gets sick, Draco gets angry.


**NOTICES** The Harry Potter empire belongs to JK Rowling. This is merely a work of imaginative fiction based on the series. This contains M/M, D/H. Read at own discretion.

**Calling In Sick**

Harry opened his eyes to a very, very pissed off Draco Malfoy.

'_You_,'

Yes, the same Draco Malfoy who could make a single word sound like a death sentence. He even looked the part of the unfeeling, malicious over seer, all narrowed eyes and grim lips.

'Uh. Hello?'

Harry's feeble response managed to soften Draco's expression by a bit, but not much.

'You. _You_ are not at work!'

'I left a note with Natalie!'

Harry felt it was ridiculous that he still had to defend and justify his actions as such, even after all they've gone through, plus... the _other_ things. As expected, Harry Potter had enrolled in Auror training with the interesting addition of Draco Malfoy the Redeemed(whose already-inflated head inflated further, if possible, once the Prophet ran a story on his dramatic crossover to the Order during the war). Topping the cohort, they've been forced into Auror partnership after their training and having succeeded in not murdering each other while on case for the past year, Kingsley had felt it deserving to reward them with an office. Natalie, their secretary, came with it.

'You left- a note. With _Natalie_,'

'Yeah Draco. I did,'

Feeling more confused than ever, Harry sniffed and re-arranged the blankets around him, clutching the tops in his fists. His head hurt, and more than anything he wanted to snuggle into the soft bed, and disappear for the next 24 hours. Swiping his nose with the sleeve of his pyjama top, he chanced a glance at Draco's face. The jaw had relaxed some, but the same cannot be said for his eyebrows unfortunately.

'Use a tissue, for God's sake. Here,'

Harry took it grudgingly and blew his nose. The potion he took for the flu was giving him a pleasant buzz, he could practically see _colours_ now- and he didn't want to waste it on entertaining a pissy Draco Malfoy. _What's got his wand in a knot,_ Harry wondered rather sulkily, his headache clearly not helping with his mood. Fiddling with the tissue in his hand he waited. And waited, and deigning that no answer would come forth from the currently tight-lipped blond(Harry much preferred those lips when they were doing something else), he threw the used tissue spitefully onto Draco's shoes and turned on his side, fully intending to ignore Draco come hell or highwater.

'Harry! This conversation isn't over!'

'Whatever. Go away,'

'Harry, this is important!'

Harry had had enough. He threw off the covers and bolted into a sitting position, ignoring the strange swirly colours he kept seeing in the distance, deeming it insignificant during such a crisis in needing to one-up an assholic Draco Malfoy.

'_What_ Draco?! What could possibly be so _important_ that you have to come over from the office to wake me up? I'm sick Draco. I'm. _Sick_! Gah! I can't talk to you right now!'

'Then when?'

Draco's small voice caught Harry off guard.

'What?'

'Then when do we get to talk?'

'Talk?'

'Yeah,'

'Wait. Talk?'

'Yes Harry. Talk,'

Harry had a good feeling what ever was coming in after this wasn't going to be any good for his headache. Or his runny nose, for that matter. Something virtually unexplainable, and unhelpful to his clueless self was going to take place, and yet again, he felt inappropriately stupider than usual. _Big surprise, Harry,_ he thought pissed offly to himself. He ran his hands up and down his face, cringing slightly at the snot that got webbed between his fingers, _oh sick Harry, SICK-_

Not a moment later, he felt a piece of cloth wipe itself rather furiously around his dripping nose, and one of Draco's hands holding him sternly by the jaw. It was sad really, when the Saviour of the magical world couldn't wipe the snot off his own nose.

'Draco- mmph, _stop_- I'm not a- mmph- a small boy!'

'Course you're not,'

'Don't fucking patronise me,'

Draco rolled his eyes as he threw the handkerchief into the overflowing bin of tissues and empty potion packages, studying it far too critically for a heap of rubbish.

'Stop studying my rubbish!'

'How many of these have you taken?'

'Draco, stop. The concern is really- you know. My head feels like- let's just get back to the root of this conversation alright? Why are you here?'

'No, the root of the conversation is why in hell you left a note with Natalie,' Draco answered distractedly as he rifled through Harry's waste bin.

'Draco, stop that! And I left a note with Natalie because I'm sick. And therefore, I can't make it to work,'

Draco cocked his head expectantly at Harry, still holding on to a couple of empty _Moore's Flu No More Potion (Now In Capsule Form!)_ packages, as though waiting for Harry to continue his sentence, even if Harry was getting increasingly befuddled by the multitude of patterns that kept springing up in front of him every time he blinked.

'Uh. And therefore, I'm here, in bed. Which in effect caused you to be... here as well. Annoyingly so,'

'Har bloody har, Harry. Har bloody har! Great fucking time for sarcasm- '

'There _wasn't_. Where's all this attitude coming from for fuck's sake?'

'This _attitude_?! This attitude- '

'Draco, really, don't talk like that, it makes you sound like a real ponce- '

'_Ponce_?! Gah just shut up! If its too much for your thick head, _Harry Potter where are we going with this messing around?!_'

'Tiny question, what does this got to do with me sending a note to Natalie?!'

'Harry. _Potter_!'

_Oh I'm a goner_, came Harry's last desperate thought as Draco loomed over him, his face a picture of dead calm. Harry shrunk into his pillows, his hands wrung together under the blankets. How he wished he could be his hands right now, as disgusting as they were, covered in snot and all but at least they could hide away, safe from Draco and his really-this-can-kill death glare. And it didn't look like it was leaving any time soon. In a last ditch attempt to save himself, he bit his bottom lip and lowered his eyes, eying Draco through his lashes. Harry, on occasion, had been referred to as charming, and he sincerely hoped this one of those occasions.

'_Coy_ Harry? Really? I'm this close to screaming in utter, absolute frustration and you try _coy_?'

'I was trying for charming, actually,' Harry replied matter of factly, the entire effect ruined by a sudden explosive sneeze that shocked Harry's system into conjuring a million _wow, so many, many_ colours in his line of vision. Oddly enough, it set Draco off in a litany of thankfully explanatory statements(if Harry had known, he would have sneezed earlier on in the conversation).

'You sent a note to Natalie, Harry! To _Natalie_! Why didn't you send it to me! _Me_! We've been... doing all that stuff and dates and all of that, but when you get sick you owl Natalie?! You owl me, Harry, you were supposed to owl me _first_! I'm just so fucking angry that you didn't even bother to think about telling me when you're unwell, sick or whatever. Fuck!'

'You don't _have_ that right,'

Harry's observation cut through Draco's increasingly hysterical exclamations and punctuated it with a dense, loaded question mark. _Did Draco want that right,_ Harry's heart wondered frantically. Harry almost couldn't breathe with the mounting possibilities and hope, dizzy with recounts of their mish mash of snogging and groping and late night coffee dates _and colours_-

'Well I bloody want that right,'

Harry's eyes shifted uncomfortably to rest on Draco's shoulder as he felt himself blush and his mouth curving slowly into a smile, after exhaling the smallest 'oh' of relief at Draco's terse confession. It was disgusting(well saccharinely so, but still mostly disgusting and cringe-worthy) that Draco Malfoy, one time school rival, could, with a single confession, turn the all-powerful Harry Potter to mush. Harry snuggled deeper into the pillows now, at a lost as to what to say, and for all the jibing he had done to Draco since he got here, Harry had effectively ran out of words.

'Why so quiet?'

'Well- '

'Blushing Harry? I wouldn't have gone out with you if I knew you were such a girl- '

Draco tumbled painfully onto the floor as Harry kicked him in the stomach with a sneaky socked foot from under the blankets.

'Right- oh, ow- not a girl then,'

Harry's light laughter filled the silence that befell them. They caught each other's eyes briefly. Harry coughed.

'This is awkward,'

'Malfoys are never awkward,'

'Right,'

'So, just so we're clear, we're officially like, dating?'

'Yeah- no, no! Not dating, we're lovers, you know, _adult_ dating,'

'Mmkay,' and with that, Draco sat himself beside Harry, placing an arm around Harry's shoulders, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

'So lovers do this? Like, cuddle?'

'Yeah, and they take care of each other, I think. Which is why I'll be staying here to make sure you don't die from your stupid cold,'

Harry's heart gave an odd wriggle of happiness to that as he rested his throbbing head on Draco's shoulder. He was quite glad actually, that he hadn't been the one to confront this whole situation, because admittedly, he just didn't have the balls to demand that sort of thing, to demand a _relationship_. Really, so what if he had slain dragons and killed Dark Lords? For this, he was fine with leaving it to Draco to lead them as they muddle through new ground together. _As lovers_, Harry squeaked rather girlishly in his head. He relished in the feeling of Draco's body pressed against him, just still and warm, not like those other times when it was fast, quick and fleeting, and let out a big sigh.

'Harry?'

'Huh?'

'You can go to sleep now you know. I was serious when I said I'll stay and take care of you,'

Harry felt like pointing out Draco's absurd tone of pride as he spoke the last sentence. But then again, Draco hadn't had much opportunity to be truly caring, had he? The last thing he truly set out to show compassion to was the _correallian fernius,_ a fern-like plant(which frankly Harry found rather creepy, it had little rows of teeth at the edges of its leaves) named Tobias that sat in a blue pot at the corner of their office a few months back. And the thing died. So it was acceptable that he should feel a tad proud at wanting to look after a sickly Harry Potter, his _boyfriend_.

'Hey taking care of me, as in, by catering to my every need, right?'

'Well. I suppose so. Yeah. Do you want tea? Another blanket? A snog?'

'Draco. Not now. Your wands with you right? You think you can get rid of the patterns and weird colours?'

'What colours?'

'I don't think I'm supposed to be seeing them actually. Its... there,' Harry muttered, oblivious to the buzzing in his head that had come back in full force now as he no longer needed his brain to understand the intricacies of an adult, mature conversation, making grabby hands at the empty space in front of him.

'Stop that! What colou- oh. Oh. How many of those flu capsules did you take?'

'I dunno. Many. Many. Lots. My nose won't stop running,'

'And my boyfriend is drugged up,' Draco uttered under his breath.

'Hey isn't it funny, a _running_ nose, who came up with that?'

'Harry, shut up. You need a nap,'

'But the colours!'

'Close your eyes Harry, and the colours will disappear,'

'Oh. Okay,'

Harry was really starting to feel extremely tired now. '_S a little weird_, he thought, as he sunk deeper into the circle of Draco's arms, warm and content and so ready for sleep. The conversation must have really taken a lot out of him. _Course, Draco was being bloody difficult- stop thinking, Harry-_ Harry just wanted to concentrate on the feeling Draco's heartbeat on his back, and the fingers that were drawing circles on the insides of his wrists. _Soft- _and for once in a very long time, Harry felt safe.

'Harry. Sleep,'

And Harry slept.


End file.
